


Ten Sexiest Words

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes bad behaviour should be rewarded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Sexiest Words

## Ten Sexiest Words

#### by Marion2

  
The Boys are not mine; no money, no foul. Oh but they are so fun to play with!  
A Moonridge auction story from 2004 and won by the very patient Janet.   
Text in brackets is from the journal.  
  


* * *

"Some days you wake and immediately start to worry. Nothing in particular is wrong, it's just the suspicion that forces are aligning quietly and there will be trouble." Jenny Holzer, Living. 

>~~*~~<

It began with a pile of t-shirts and underwear. 

When Jim tossed the pile of laundry onto Sandburg's bed, it bounced off, right onto the floor. A grunt of annoyance and he bent down to gather the pile up. Then something caught his eye. Letting the tshirts and underwear flop onto the Inca-patterned bedspread, he reached under the bed and pulled out a clothbound journal. He was about to drop it on Sandburg's desk when the title on the cover stopped his hand. The Ten Sexiest Words. In Sandburg's own scrawl. 

He knew he should just put the journal down and walk out but... 

Settling onto the edge of Sandburg's bed, Jim flipped open the first page. 

[This is an examination, a consideration of what I consider to be the ten sexiest words in English. The images with which these words fill my mind arouse me but I am not sure why in some cases. All I know is that I get painfully hard every time I hear one of them. I have to get over this. It's too embarrassing to be rampantly tumescent in the middle of Major Crimes. Or in Jim's truck. Or in the grocery store. So I will do here what I used to do when something really frightened me: describe situations in which the words made me react and hope to get my emotions under control. Worked for scary movies and books. 

Sure can't talk to Jim about this. He'd never stop teasing me.] 

Jim stared at the last two sentences and frowned. Sure he might start out teasing but if the Guide really had a problem, the Sentinel would try to help. Wouldn't he? 

Shaking off these thoughts, Jim turned the page. 

[Steam swirled out of the bathroom door as he came out. It flowed around that body, still moist from the shower, barely covered with the towel wrapped loosely around a trim waist. Steam caressed all those places that his desire dare not go, except as a quick glance. 

He was bitterly jealous of the steam, how unfair it was. What did steam care about the fine broad chest, the muscled shoulders and powerful biceps glistening and enticing his gaze. How dare it obscure even by the thickness of a molecule of heated water meeting cooler air his view of that wonder! A million times was not sufficient to see all that. 

The whole business lasted maybe 30 seconds, the time it took to walk from the bathroom door to his bedroom. 30 lousy seconds! Was it too much to ask that the steam stay in the bathroom and not ruin this opportunity to...to enjoy? 

But this time, there was a pause, just outside the bathroom door, in the midst of all that steam. Long fingers combed through short damp hair, sending a single rivulet of moisture down the impossible length of a neck, over a prominent clavicle and off the edge of a pectoral muscle into space. "You seen my shaving foam?" 

It took two tries before he was able to mumble, "New can, cupboard. Behind the hair conditioner and curl relaxer." 

A nod and the vision wreathed in steam disappeared again, drawing the steam back in with him. Damn.] 

His hands were shaking slightly as he stared down at the page. Blair had written this but about whom? Was it all imagination or based on really seeing someone? One long finger ran over the line 'Steam caressed all those places that his desire did not dare go, except as a quick glance'. Jim let his thoughts drift into the images that sentence created. Shit, he thought, Sandburg can really write. He shook his head, slowly closed the book and leaning down, slipped it back under the bed. 

>~~*~~<

A week later, Blair called out his departure for an evening with friends from his university days as Jim finished his shower. The front door thumped closed and Blair was gone. Jim dressed in the comfortable sweats he had brought down from his dresser and strolled out of the bathroom. As he passed the door to Blair's room, he glanced in, seeing a corner of that journal sticking out from under Blair's pillow. 

He knew he shouldn't but couldn't stop himself from stepping in and taking up the journal. A quick flip showed him a new entry. It was not long, so he stood there reading it. 

[It's just a colour, isn't it? I mean, blue. Sky, ocean, forget-menots, sapphires. Eyes. Yah, that's when it becomes something else. In eyes. 

When I was a kid, blue was not my favourite colour. Red or orange or yellow, those were the ones I loved. Might have something to do with my mother: she wore a lot of those warm colours. Blue and green, too cool. Especially those times we had to sleep rough. I wanted red blankets, just like the colour of fire. But later, when things were more stable, after the inheritance from my maternal grandfather, that meant we never had to rely on other people for shelter or food or anything, I learned to appreciate the cool colours too. 

But the blue in those eyes. Like being shot through with electric blue bolts from eyes that pin you to the spot. First time I noticed it, I was pinned against a wall for real, wondering if I was about to be hit and those eyes were inches, just inches away. While my mouth was busy trying to stave off a fist in the face, I got lost in those eyes. Icy. Electric. Cold that burns like fire. Holy shit, some part of me said. And I was his, whatever happened next. I knew immediately I was his.] 

Hmm, different than the last one but beguiling. Yah. He nodded and put the book back where he found it. 

>~~*~~<

Time was a premium on this case. A kidnapping and a fouled-up ransom exchange meant a stressed-out kidnapper who was liable to do anything. And they, the vaunted team of Jim Cop-of-the-Year Ellison and his sidekick, Blair Rookie Detective Sandburg, had nothing. Not a single decent clue to follow up. 

Now, after three days, they were just going through the motions: reinterviewing the neighbours who might have seen something on the day of the kidnapping; speaking again to the husband's employees and friends; trying desperately to determine why Alyssa Martin had been kidnapped. Bob Martin was not a wealthy man and there were no disgruntled former employees. The small firm was a specialist bookstore, without any of the cutthroat tactics that might have injured someone else's business. The couple were both well thought of in the community, good humoured and friendly and unassuming. There just did not seem to be any reason to pick the Martins for a kidnapping. 

Blair was pacing in Simon's office, around and around the visitor chairs, skirting Jim's legs and Simon's desk, mumbling to himself. It was driving Jim crazy. 

"Sandburg," he rumbled. Then, when there was no response, a bit louder, "Sandburg." Finally, in frustration, he grabbed his partner's arm as he sped by and redirected him into a chair. "Park it, Chief. Think without using your feet." 

"Ha, ha, really funny. You should go on Comedy Club." 

"I might need to if we can not solve this case in time. And you might need to join me." 

"Right, right. Great thought there, oh mighty Sentinel. Why don't you get off your duff and extend your senses to find the poor woman?" 

"Well, is that the best you can suggest? 'Extend your senses.' Is that your solution to everything? Thought you could think outside the box? Seems to me you are locked in a box." 

"Oh, better and better. So what ideas have you put forward to solve this, hnn? Hnn!? Or is it like usual, leaving it to the 'kid' to do your thinking for you?" Blair was on his feet again glaring down at Jim. 

Jim's face went red and he surged to his feet and loomed over his partner. "Look, you twirp, I did just fine..." 

Simon leapt up and pushed between the two men. "Can't you two focus on what is important here? A woman kidnapped and threatened with death? Grow up and do what you are paid to do!" 

Both men stepped back, Blair shoving his hands through his short curls, Jim standing still and staring at the floor. "Shit, sorry, Simon. We..." 

"Yah, we're sorry." 

Simon grunted his acceptance of the apology and then gestured with his unlit cigar between his two officers. They looked at each other, ice blue eyes meeting   
sky blue eyes. For a moment they stood looking and then softly, Blair said, "Sorry, Jim that was uncalled for." 

"Me too, Chief. Just need to ..." Jim waved a hand toward the Martin file on Simon's desk. 

"Yah, me too. Gotta save her." He blinked and then half smiled. "So...I have an idea." 

Turned out to be a great idea. 

>~~*~~<

["Taste this." And a spoon came toward him, protectively supported by a hand. He had no choice but open his mouth. In the spoon slid and he closed around it. The flavours burst onto his tongue, sweet and tart and somehow subtle with it. He could not prevent the 'mmm' of appreciation. 

"Good, hnn? It's the juice of a granadilla that gives that sharp goodness. Some say it is an aphrodisiac but I don't know. What do you think?" Those eyes were locked on his and drew him in. The expectation, the intensity of that concentration, it was all too much. Nothing could overcome that look from that man. Nothing else existed, nothing outside of this moment and this gaze that held his in thrall. 

He couldn't form any coherent words so he stalled for time, murmuring a low, assessing 'ermmm?', tilting his head to one side and staring up to the ceiling. Moving his tongue back and forth as if retasting. A few more seconds and he got his breathing under control. "hm mm, hm mmm, yes, nice undertones. Subtle, sweet without being cloying, allowing the ...uh... citrus to come through. Yah, good." He nodded along with his words. "Best yet." 

"Sure, but is it an aphrodisiac?" 

"Um, well, could be." 

"Could be? Is it or isn't it?" Eyes flashed and mouth pouted. 

He had a terrible urge to giggle but restrained himself. But the words he spoke could not be stopped. Quietly, leaning in, he murmured, "Do you want it to be?" 

A blink of those eyes, a frown and then a grin. "Yah." 

"Then it is." He ran his tongue over his lips. "Can I have some more." 

"We doing Oliver now?" But the spoon dipped into the pot and came out trickling the golden syrup. 

The cupping hand guided the spoon to his mouth again and he opened, like a bird, eyes locked on the ones above him, watching him. As the spoon entered his mouth, he closed his lips over it and let his tongue gather up the delicious treat. "Mmmmmm," a sound he felt all the way to his center, spoken as much for the man before him as an expression of his own pleasure. 

They stood staring, breathing in concert until the timer on the stove startled them apart.] 

Jim snapped the journal shut and held it to his chest, eyes closed. 

>~~*~~<

Blair came in late, not long before 11 p.m. Not late, of course, back in his university days but late in his new life when tomorrow was a working day with a 6 a.m. start. He came in tiptoeing, shoes off, though why Jim didn't know. With his Sentinel senses he could hear Blair's heart beating, hear the blood flowing through his veins. Tiptoeing could seem to Jim as if Blair came thumping in wearing heavy construction boots if Jim turned up his hearing. But Jim rather liked it: Blair's trying to be as quiet as he could, so as not to disturb the Sentinel. If only Blair knew. 

Blair didn't turn on the lights either. Normally there was enough glow coming in the windows from the street lamps to show him the way. Not tonight, though: the two lamps nearest their loft windows were burnt out. Then Jim remembered that he had left a table chair pulled out on the route to Blair's room. He started to sit up, ready to warn his room mate but Blair was moving quickly and it was too late. 

A loud whack as Blair slammed the chair into the edge of the table and "OW, shit, shit, shit!" 

Jim's sense of smell automatically dialed up to check for blood. None. But there was something else familiar and not familiar. Sweat...male sweat...and ... Smell went crazy and shut down completely in shock. 'Not Blair's sweat! Male sweat and not Blair's!' 

Jim fell back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, through the clerestory to the night sky, pondering the matter. 'Why does he have some other man's sweat on him? He's a lady's man. Dated almost every woman at the Station. And at the University, before that thesis mess. No, mistook that scent. Not male at all. Try again, Ellison and get it right this time!' 

Gently he increased his sense of smell and reached out to Blair. Found him in the bathroom, in the shower. Not going to be able to check now. Blair had rushed to get a shower before the 11 p.m. deadline and in that rush, had removed all the evidence... 

Jim closed his eyes. Why did he call it evidence? Blair had done nothing wrong. Not really. It was just that... 

The bathroom door opened and Blair padded back to his room, now smelling of his special herb soap and nothing else. Jim could hear the rasp of the towel wrapped around Blair's waist as it brushed against hairy thighs. Then he sensed Blair was walking with some stiffness. That was concerning and Jim honed in on trying to figure where Blair hurt. As nearly as he could sense, it was something to do with his lower back. 

Jim listened closely. In the small room below the loft bedroom, Blair discarded the towel and pulled some fresh boxers from his top dresser drawer. The soft groan as Blair bent to pull on the boxers drew Jim's concern a bit higher but it ended with a sigh. Then there was a hiss as Sandburg settled on his futon but that too morphed into a contented exhalation of a body getting comfortable in the bed's embrace. 

As much as he wanted to go down and find out what was wrong, Jim knew he couldn't justify intruding on Sandburg's privacy based on what his senses told him. 

In a few minutes, a snuffling sound and Blair's breathing deepened and evened out, sleep taking him. 

Jim lay awake for a long time, his thoughts worrying at the idea of Blair with some man. Now he knew who Blair was writing about. 

>~~*~~<

[Time was I could keep my eyes to myself but it's getting almost impossible not to stare at his mouth. 

Not large, not small. 

Lips a gentle rose. 

I bet they're warm. 

And a little moist. 

Really inviting, that's what they are. 

I've dreamed of touching my mouth to those lips, just to find out if I'm right, in all these imaginings. 

And when I do and they open beneath the pressure of my lips, my tongue will delve into the dark sweetness, wet and ready.] 

Jim took a shaky breath and slid the journal back under the futon where he had found it.Found it after some searching. 

>~~*~~<

"Sandburg! Shooter, alley!" 

Jim yelled to his partner without taking his gaze from the wild-eyed perp with the shotgun. He was aware of Blair shifting around behind the truck to get a clear view of the second armed man. 

So far they had one person down, likely dead from a blast to the chest, and three others trapped in a doorway by what seemed like a robbery gone wrong. Backup had been called but was still three to four minutes away. Too long. The situation was deteriorating rapidly: one of the trapped people looked ready to run and the shotgun guy was practically vibrating in place. 

"Chief?", calmly. 

"Yah, Jim?" 

"We've got to move on this one now." 

"You sure?" 

"No choice. You got a clear shot on the guy in the alley?" 

He heard Blair's heart rate speed up but Blair's voice was very quiet when he replied. "Yah." 

"Ok. We take them out. Nothing fancy. On three." Jim paused, took a long breath and, bringing his gun up, started to count. "One...two...shit!!" 

The panicked bystander had lost it and bolted from the doorway. There was no choice. Jim broke cover, bellowing loudly to attract attention away from the running bystander. 

The shotgun was just swinging his way as he fired twice into the chest of the gunman. The impact of the bullets blasted the robber back into the wall of the bank. A finger spasmed on the trigger and the shotgun, dropping from the perp's fingers, fired harmlessly into the pavement but nearly deafened Jim. 

Gun extended two-armed toward the perp, the big cop kicked the shotgun aside. Though he could detect no movement in the body sprawled at the foot of the wall, Jim wasn't absolutely sure if his heart was still beating, what with the ringing going on in his ears from the shotgun blast. But a quick check confirmed that there was no life in the robber. 

Jim turned in time to hear Blair cuffing the other bad guy. 

Three squad cars, their backup, squealed to a stop in the street. As the uniforms got out, weapons drawn, Jim called out, holding up his badge, "Ellison, Major Crimes. Perps down. Call for ambulances. Check that victim," pointing to the body on the sidewalk. 

"Ambulance right behind us," one officer called back, going to the radio at his shoulder to call in a second ambulance. As he spoke, the first ambulance arrived and was moving past the squad cars as a uniformed officer waved it forward. 

Jim could see Blair had come out of the alley with his cuffed prisoner in tow. His partner turned the quiescent perp over to uniformed officers and went to the victim sprawled on the sidewalk. Kneeling, his broad fingers searching for a pulse, Blair frowned. He rose up, shaking his head at the paramedic who had joined him. The EMT pulled out his stethoscope to check for himself but Jim knew it was all in vain. 

Slipping his gun into the holster at the small of his back, Jim turned his attention to the two remaining bystanders, the runner who had precipitated the carnage being long gone. He approached the two women with a gentle smile. "Everyone all right, ladies?" 

He extended a hand and the older woman grasped his fingers firmly and nodded. The younger woman glanced wide-eyed by Jim at the perp's body against the wall. "Is he...he..?" 

"Yes. He won't be going anywhere on his own." Jim moved to block her view. "Can you tell me, ladies, what started all this?" After a few minutes, it was clear the two women had seen little of the event's start. 

His head was aching, the residual effects of his hearing being knocked for a loop by the shotgun blast. He needed to step away and recover. With some words of reassurance for the two women, he called over a couple of uniforms. The older woman was reluctant to let his hand go and he smiled at her. "It's all right now. These officers will take you home after they get your statements. Have them call family or friends to come over." This last was partially directed to the two officers, who nodded back at Jim. 

Blair greeted one of the uniform officers he knew and followed Jim toward his truck. His back was to everyone else when he snapped in a voice low but intense. 

"What the HELL do you think you were doing? Do you have a death wish?! I can not believe you, you, you big JERK!? What was that, that RIGGS routine?" One strong finger jabbed into Jim's chest, emphasizing every word. 

Jim blinked once and murmured, over the pounding in his head, "Riggs?" 

Through clenched teeth, Blair snarled, "Mel Gibson, Lethal Weapon." 

"Right," Jim nodded, remembering the half-crazy, suicidal cop played by Gibson. 

Blair waited a beat before demanding, "So?" 

"Ah, you're a bit short to do Danny Glover's part." When Blair's eyes grew large with fury, Jim commented, "I had to. The perp was going to shoot that idiot bystander who ran." 

"Sure you did! You could have shot him from where you were! Like the plan!" 

"No, Chief. Bystander still would have been taken down. I needed to get him to point that shotgun at something else." 

"SomeONE, someone. You, you DOOFUS! You're not a thing!" 

"Oh, Chief, thanks. You noticed. And by the way, the plan was to take out both perps. Guess you missed him when you fired? Need some time on the firing range?" 

Blair couldn't help it, he began to grin. With a slap to Jim's chest, he barely held his laugh in check. "Shut up! Guy threw down his weapon. You are so going to get yours, Ellison. Soon as I get you home." 

Jim couldn't help himself. He leaned closer, and voice deeper and silky, "Promise?"Blair's eyes widened and he swallowed. Jim deftly stepped around Blair, murmuring, "I've been wanting mine back since you took it." 

He heard the gasp from his partner as he strolled over to the sergeant in charge of the uniforms to hand over scene responsibility. All the while, shocked at where the hell those words had come from, he tried to keep the shiteating grin from his face, an expression so totally inappropriate for a senior police officer dealing with a very public crime scene involving two dead people. 

>~~*~~<

It was like an addiction; he could not stop himself from wanting more. Like right now, he needed more, needed to read more of the entries in Blair's secret journal. God, the man could write erotic stuff. Sandburg could make money out of that skill. To heck with publishing the Sentinel dissertation. Blair could become rich and famous as an erotic writer. 

Oh yeah. Writer of arousing, palpating, carnal, sybaritic, sensual ...stuff. 

Jim groaned. He had to have more. He ached for it. 

But Blair had tortured him: it took Sandburg over an hour to get ready for his date. Shampoo hair, shower and shave. Forever picking out the clothes. But finally he was gone. 

Jim slipped into Blair's room and peered under the bed. No journal. Picked up the pillow, lifted back the bedspread, pulled the bed away from the wall before grunting in frustration. Where in hell was the journal?! He turned around and shoving his hand through his hair in desperation, tried to calm his rampaging hormones and muddle mind enough to figure where his roommate would have stashed the journal. Where, where...there! Right there on the edge of the desk, next to a pile of books and magazines. The little shit...right in plain sight. 

Greedy hands snatched up the journal and flipped through to the last page he had read. Slowly, anticipating wildly, he turned the page. 

[Who would have thought what he looked like dancing. 

The lanky frame, so graceful and sensuous. Like liquid muscle and bone under his skin, slipping around to a funky rhythm. 

Damn, he is so hot when he dances. 

Does he know it? Does he do it to tease, to entice, to seduce? 

Who knows? I know I don't. I don't. 

I just appreciate it, especially when he does not know anyone is looking, that I am looking.] 

>~~*~~<   
"Even with your eyes closed you can see someone approaching. His shadow shows on the insides of your eyelids." Jenny Holzer, Living >~~*~~<

Jim clanged his locker door shut and locked it with a snap of hasp onto base. He knew, he just knew this was going to take all he had to get through the next hour. With a sigh, he marched out into the main gym and headed for the warm-up area. 

Sandburg was there ahead of him, already halfway through the stretch and bend routine. There were only a couple of other cops still in the gym working out at this hour. In fifteen minutes, Sandburg and he would have the place to themselves. Damn it. 

Throwing his towel on the bench, Jim leaned against the wall, angling one long leg out and bending the other at the knee, gradually pressing his weight up through his body, down his arms and onto the wall. A long ten count and he reversed the position of his legs. 

"Hey, Jim, what'd you think of that new program Simon mentioned?" 

He turned his head so he could see Blair and immediately regretted it. Blair sat on the floor, reaching out to touch one foot and then the other. His legs were splayed, thighs wide open, shorts/sweats pulled snug over his crotch. Jim snapped his eyes back to the wall and grunted, "Not sure it's going to be as easy as Simon thinks but..."pausing to switch back and finishing his thought before Blair could interrupt, "definitely some possibilities there." 

"So, worth getting involved in, right?" Jim could hear Blair's enthusiasm for the new community contact program Simon was promoting. "Think about it: getting known in a couple of the ethnic communities outside of investigations." A grunt as Blair pulled his legs up to his chest from the sitting position. "Developing contacts and establishing trust and respect. Respect's a very critical factor in these kinds of relationships. Makes the difference between closed doors and cooperation." Another grunt. "I really want to be in on this stuff, ground floor." Blair bounced to his feet and leaning with his back against the wall, peered enquiringly into Jim's face. "You with me on this, Jim?" 

"As I said, possibilities, Chief." 

"Aw, come on, be a real man. Commit!" 

"Aren't women always saying guys can't commit?" Jim sat on the floor and started his toe touches. 

Voice patient in that way Jim was sure came from Blair's time teaching at Ranier, Blair explained, "No, Jim, we can commit but women don't consider committing to a two-week fishing trip backpacking in through virgin forest or to the Jags by purchasing season tickets to be what they mean by commitment." 

Jim barked a laugh. "I don't know, Chief, sounds like real commitment to me, after that crappy season the Jags had last year." 

"That's because you're a guy." Blair's gaze shifted beyond Jim. "Hey, Hendriks, done tapping at the bag?" 

It was Michael Hendriks from Vice, a cop Blair had worked an undercover sting with for two weeks last Spring. "I left you a little piece, Sandburg." Voice growing serious, "You took Nickols down - good service, brother." 

Blair's face closed in and his mouth firmed. "Yah." 

Hendriks nodded and continued to the locker room. Jim watched Blair's eyes, knowing his partner was haunted still by images of the grizzly crimes of child killer Nichols. But Blair's clean and careful investigation and arrest of the suspect and his steady testimony under a withering cross-examination had put the sleaze away for good. 

"Hey, Chief." 

Blair started slightly and stared down at Jim. 

"Give your partner a hand up." 

Like magic, Blair's grin switched on and the younger man extended a hand. "Aw, Pops, you shouldn't get down if you can't get up." Blair grasped Jim's forearm and drew him up, demonstrating yet again how strong the smaller man was. 

"I can get it up when I need to." 'Shit, where did that come from?' To cover his slip, Jim strode to the power track and selected his favourite thirtyminute run program. 

Blair, laughing, got started on the bowflex machine. Both men glided into their exercise zone, concentrating on the movements but after a few minutes, Jim's body on automatic, his mind started wandering in that direction. From the track machine, he could glance over to were Blair sat, lifting weights with the power of his back and arm muscles. 

Up, down, thunk. Up, down, thunk. 

Jim could make out the flex and bulge of bicep and deltoid under the thin t-shirt. The way the light gleamed from skin growing slick with sweat as Blair's body warmed. A deeper look with Sentinel eyes and he could see how the blood vessels were raising to the surface to let off some of the heat being produced. He could smell and almost taste the salt and essence that was Blair in the sweat glistening on body hair. 

'Oh, god!' as a tremble shook him to his core. 

Jim turned his attention back to his running, trying to imagine, as Blair had taught him, that he was pounding along his favourite route through the shadowy paths of the Henderson Point Park. He forced his mind to picture the evergreens and the wild grasses, the smell of sea air, the cry of gulls. As he rounded the last corner, the end of his circuit, the timer dinged at the 30 minute elapse time and the track program automatically powered down to slow the track speed into the Jim's cool down period and then slowed to a stop. 

As he stepped from the track, Jim glanced over to where Blair was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching. Staring up and down the length of Jim's body. Checking him out! 

Jim's breath caught as he met Blair's gaze. For an interminable time he could not look away, mesmerized by the dilation of Blair's pupils. Nothing else existed but the intensity between them. Jim was drawn into the depths of that intensity and his body moved slowly but steadily forward to meet the source. 

As he closed in on Blair, the shorter man drew himself up and away from the wall, a deep breath expanding his chest. Jim scented the air, filled with sweat and...and something else so intriguing and so alluring he could not stop that forward move. He had to touch that skin glistening at him. 

Just as Jim reached Blair, one hand readying to draw that study frame forward, the door to the change room banged open and two men came out, arguing over something. Jim blinked and stepped back. He felt his defences slam down as he grumbled at Blair, "Don't be all night, Sandburg, if you want a ride home with me." 

Blair stared at him and then strode off toward the showers. 

>~~*~~<

Jim concentrated on the bathroom and checked on Blair. The younger man was mumbling to himself, complaining really, about how long it was going to take to do the special oil based conditioning treatment for his hair. Something about 'damn curly, krinkly mess, all Naomi's fault or maybe my father, who knows, should shave it all off, an hour in the bathroom, keeping it warm and moist, damn hair'. 

Jim smiled. Perfect, he thought and slipped into Blair's room. In a moment he had the special journal out of its hiding place and flipped to the last page he had read. Yes! There was a new section! Leaving a small part of his attention on Blair's activities in the bathroom, Jim sat on the bed and began to read. 

[At night sometimes I hear him, there in his bed, when he thinks I am asleep and can't hear what he is doing. But I do. Oh, God, I do hear. I have a good imagination to interpret what I hear and lots of experience doing exactly what he is about to do. It does not take much for me to follow along with the sounds. 

First there is the squeak of the bed springs as he settles himself, spread out comfortably. Now he is adjusting the top sheet and comforter to give free access. I slip out of my room and move silently closer to him, needing to be near, to perceive the subtler sounds. 

There, the grunt and squeak as he raises his hips to slip his boxers down and out of the way - yeah! I recognize that sound from here. 

Ah, he's forgotten something - right, he rolls over and tugs open the drawer in his night table, a few curses as he digs through the drawer - oops, something went on the floor - until, yes, there is the sound of discovery. He rolls back into position and readjusts the bedding to his satisfaction. Then a snap, that's the lid of whatever slick he uses - I wonder what kind? 

I'm so close now, straining forward but not wanting to get caught listening. This is the good part, all right, yes! That moan, I bet he's spreading the slick up and down his rod. Oh, god, I can just see his face, eyes closed, head tilted back on the pillow, mouth open a crack. And his hips are coming up a little to meet the hand sliding down. And up. And another thrust as that fist tightens on the downward slide.] 

It was four hours later and that damned entry was percolating through Jim's thoughts. Dinner was long over and both room mates had gone to bed but sleep eluded Jim. All he could do was focus on his hearing. 

There it was again, that sound, like a soft sigh, wafting up from Sandburg's room. A soft sigh but with more emotion than a sigh usually had. No, more suppressed emotion. Not the usual, not sadness or frustration or longing. No, not exactly relief, like relief though... release, damn, that was it. 

Like someone, like Sandburg had just, just ...come. Yah, gotten off and was trying to be quiet about it but unable to stop the gentle sound of air gusting from his mouth. Laying there, all sweaty and warm...yah, breathing hard, heart pounding as everything returned to normal rhythms. 

All warm and relaxed, snuggling under his covers, sliding down into sleep. Body settling into the position that Sandburg slept in. Spread out, open but somehow curved inward too. How did he do that? Hell, how did he do anything in so uniquely a Blair way, stuff everyone else just did the same? 

There, that little snuff Sandburg always gave right before falling asleep. Didn't matter where he was...in his own bed or in a bedroll under the stars or on a camp bed in a tent or even in a chair next to a hospital bed. Every time, same snuff. Now there would only be the regular wuff, wuff of his sleeping breaths. Damn him. 

Now Jim was fully awake and hard and needing to get off. Tense with lust and desire and hard and frustrated as hell. Damn. 

>~~*~~<  
"How do you resign yourself to something that will never be? You stop wanting that thing, you go numb or you kill the agent of desire." Jenny Holzer, Living  
>~~*~~<

" So what is this about"? Blair cocked his head to one side. 

"What?" 

"Yes." 

"No, I mean, what?" Jim was confused and Blair's neutral expression was not helping. 

"Exactly. What." 

"Sandburg!" 

Blair blinked, the flutter of eyelashes distracting Jim momentarily from his frustration in being understood. He stared until Blair murmured "mmm hmm" encouragingly. With a shake of his head, Jim enunciated very clearly and very slowly, frowning into that earnest face. 

"What. Are. You. Asking. About." As Blair started to nod in agreement, Jim grabbed his arm. "NO, explain to me the topic of your question without using that word, 'what'..." 

A grin this time. "Sure Jim." 

"Or 'it'. No it. No what." 

"Got it. Opps." 

"Sandburg get on with..." Jim stopped. Blair barely suppressed a twitch of lips before a giggle slipped out. Jim glared at his partner and with a growl, he ordered, "Answer me." 

Blair nodded and composing his face into a bland mask, he started again. "OK. Please explain why... (pausing to check if this interrogative was acceptable and continuing after Jim's sharp nod) ...but just before I do, you know the open ended question ...or one that is subtly vague or non-definitive ... is the preferred modus for anthropologists and sociologists...really any professional cultural analyst...or psychologist. I've.." 

Jim's growl this time was deeper and definitely more dangerous. Blair stopped speaking and glanced wide-eyed up at the Sentinel. "Did you say something?" 

A cracking clench of his jaw and a barely articulated 'Sandburg" had Blair raising a placating hand. "Right. Right. Please explain why you have been acting oddly." A satisfied smile finished the sentence. 

"What? Oddly?" 

"I thought we weren't using what. Ok, ok. Oddly, out of character...no, not in a normal way for...well, I guess you might be acting within your established range of responses for stressful situations...something has been stressful, eh?...but ...umm, I don't know the source of stress this time. Hence my question...in an open format to encourage communication of any...um...issues. See?" 

"Shit! Lab rat time again." Jim turned away and ran his hands over his face. He kept moving, headed ...he was not sure where he was going but just away from the source of his frustration. 

Before he got far, Blair darted in front of him and reached out to curl broad fingers around the nearest muscular forearm. "No, no. I'm sorry. All that anthropology stuff, just me pulling your chain. Just want to know what's bothering you. 'cause something is." Blair's face was serious, his eyes expressing concern. 

Jim took a deep breath and lifted Blair's hand from his arm. "Nothing, it's nothing. I'm going...going for a run." 

"I'll come..." 

"No, alone. I need some time to myself." He started up the stairs to change. "You just...do whatever...", waving one hand in no particular direction. 

A soft 'ok jim' followed Jim upstairs. 

>~~*~~<  
"There's the sensation of a lot of flesh when every single hair stands up. This happens when you are cold and naked, aroused or simply terrified." Jenny Holzer, Living  
>~~*~~<

[I wonder when I lost my mind because I must have. I would be overwhelmed by the scent of a hot body. The first time, damn, like the impact of a fist, the aftermath, trembling - damn trembling all over and wanting, wanting to be closer. To be enveloped in the aroma of a living passionate body. 

There I was crushed up against him in that crowd, unable to move, not wanting to move away. Lost, too afraid I will have to step back, ah, worse, be pushed away. So I grasped hard to him, pressed my face against his chest. Inhaled the rank sweetness of exertion, ragged breath heaving, rejoicing in what I crave. God, I need this so much, no way to live without it and I never, never knew. 

We stand steadying each other in the jostling mass of people and I feel his arms curve around my back, strength and care together. I can rest here a while, indulge myself and pretend this scent is mine to savour anytime I want it. I know I will have to let go before long but for the moment, I am enclosed in an intimacy of smell so rich, so intoxicating, nothing else exists. 

In some cultures, body scent is offensive - we westerners spend so much time and money to disguise the smell of armpits and crotch and yet for other people these are desirable connections to the natural being. Our bodies are of the earth, and they smell - oh the glorious smell of passion. Of flesh slick with sweat and the musk, the ripe musk of a man's groin strong and earthy and bitter. What a thing to desire but God, I desire it. To fill my nostrils with it. To take it in so that it is a part of me.] 

Jim shuddered and came, like a teenager. A sigh in equal parts completion and frustration gusted from deep inside. He closed the journal and slid it back into its hiding place. 

>~~*~~<  
"It's an extraordinary feeling when parts of your body are touched for the first time. I'm thinking of the sensations from sex and surgery." Jenny Holzer, Living. >~~*~~<

It took him only a few moments to find the journal this time. Carelessly left on Blair's side table, the book drew Jim into the closet become a bedroom. He picked it up and flipped forward through all the pages he had read to find - yes \- a new entry. The first words had him subsiding onto the futon. 

[Slick and sweet and ready for me. A rosy pucker that begged me to come in. I leaned forward, taking myself in hand...] 

"Jim, what are you doing?" 

Blair stood in the doorway to his bedroom, those lively eyes assessing the scene of his friend and partner reading his private journal. Jim had been so engrossed he had not heard Blair enter the apartment. Words failed him. 

Voice quiet but commanding, "Jim, can you explain this to me?" 

Jim blinked and tried to form a coherent thought. "Ah, explain what?" 

A twitch of lips. "Why you are in my room, reading my journal, my private journal, without my permission." 

"Oh. It fell to the floor." 

"Yes." 

"And I picked it up." 

"Umm hmm." 

Jim thought he had found a way out. "You really need to store things more securely, Chief. And this, this..." he gestured with the journal, "is could have tripped you coming in late. And more, it is a dust magnet, all this cotton covering." 

Blair stepped into the room, all the while nodding his head at Jim's words, eyes focused on Jim's face. Jim kept talking, unable to help himself. 

"So I suggest a plastic bag ...to keep the dust from attaching itself...and maybe a better place to store it where it won't...won't..." 

"Be so hard to find?" 

"Yah." Oops, he didn't meant to admit he had been looking for it. 

Now Blair was right in front of him, gazing down into his eyes and extending one hand toward the journal. Jim surrendered it to him. Blair held the journal open where Jim had been reading. He leaned forward and softly asked, "So, you like what I wrote?" 

Jim swallowed and was about to deny having read much but from the expression on Blair's face, he could tell the game was up. "Yes." 

"Have a favourite?" Where had Blair learned to make his voice so sultry and dark with passion? 

"Yes." 

A raise of an eyebrow to encourage a response. 

"The ...ah...the one where you are listening to him jerk off." 

"Him?" 

"The guy you are writing about, your..." 

"My..." 

Jim could barely say the word. He pulled his gaze from Blair's face and stared at the journal. "Lover. Your lover." 

"Ah. How do you determine if someone is your lover?" 

Jim felt like he was being made fun of and it irritated him coming on top of his embarrassment. "Well, if you don't know, Sandburg, I would demand a refund from your high school health and sex ed teacher." 

"No, really, Jim. When does someone become your lover? When you fall in love? When you both declare that love? The first time you have sex? Or the second time, so it's not a one night stand? Hmm?" 

"What? What are you talking about? Haven't you and he..." Jim waggled his hand vaguely down below Blair's waist, "several times?" 

"No, actually not." 

"What!? No, come on, I smelled him..." Damn, his brain must have leaked out of his head! 

Blair looked puzzled. "Smelled him? You couldn't.. ah ha! You have been checking me out with those" wagging a finger at Jim, "Sentinel senses! Haven't you?" Blair sighed dramatically. "Is there no privacy? No, no, just a nosey Sentinel sniffing me up!" 

Jim was on his feet in a second. "Nosey? Nosey? Look, you come home in the middle of the night, moaning and in pain and what am I supposed to do, just lay there ignoring you? What kind of person do you think I am? What kind of friend? Damn, damn, you just don't appreciate all I ..." Jim stopped and turned away with a groan. 

"Ah, ah, I knew it," Blair crowed. 

"Sure, you know everything." Jim started for the doorway to the small bedroom, just wanting to escape what he wanted and could not have. "Must be nice, being so certain." He strode out of the bedroom and was nearing the dining table when Blair followed him. 

That voice taunted him. "Well, at least I take a chance. I don't run away or hide from my real feelings. Eh, Jim. Going to run ophmmm...!!!!" 

It was too much, after all. In a blink, Jim whirled round, grabbed Blair and silenced him with a kiss so intense Jim lost himself in it. His arms wrapped around Blair's back and lifted his partner slightly, until the shorter man was up on his toes. His hips pressed forward, low into Blair's belly, as Jim's hands seized those enticing, firm ass cheeks. 

The kiss went on and on until Jim needed to stop for air. His head back, eyes closed, he gasped, unable to get breath fast enough. His heart was pounding madly, his chest ached with the realization that he had just destroyed the most important relationship he had ever had. A breath out that was sigh and moan together spoke his pain. 

Then he realized he still had Blair clutched to his chest. With a jerk he let go of that firm body and stepped back. Blair was huffing as if he had been running, his face red with the exertion. His eyes were ...glazed...was that the right description for that slight detachment from reality? Jim knew it would only be a moment before the shock of what happened would take over and Blair would express his rejection and that Jim could not bear to see. 

He stopped looking at Blair and backed away, to go he did not know. 

"Whoa, where are you going? No way, Ellison. Come back here. You can't..." In a second, Blair grabbed Jim's wrist. 

"Look I'm sorry, didn't mean to..just the..." How did he explain this? 

Blair's face softened. "Yah, just the panther taking over. I get it. But, now," he pushed his groin into Jim," it's my turn." The gentleness morphed into a leer. 

"What? No! Get away from me!" With force, he shoved Blair away. 

"Jim?" Blair's face was all puzzled. 

"NO! I am not some...I am not interested in some bit of sleazy fucking on the side! If you need it, go to him. You're so obsessed with him. Let him ..." Jim could not say it. 

The bewilderment on Blair's face, in his eyes, washed away into a grin. Softly, "There is no him." 

"Don't lie. He's all through that, that journal," with a wave toward Blair's room. "I read how much you, you...it's all in there." Jim was getting angry again. How dare the jerk deny there was a guy he wanted so much. 

"No, really, there is no him." 

"Then who the hell were you writing about? Are you telling me you made all that up?" 

"No, nothing is made up. It is all real." 

"No guy and it's all real." Voice dry, almost emotionless. 

"Yup." Though the word was casual there was nothing casual in Blair's expression. Earnest and worried, that was it. "Jim, there is no other man. Just you. It's all about you." 

"What?!" 

"I was writing about you. Must admit I did not think it would take this long. Man, you can be oblivious. And stubborn. And seriously in denial. I have never met anyone who could refuse to acknowledge what is right in front of him the way you do." 

"Hey, hey, I am a detective! How could I possibly do my job if I could not see what is in front of me?!" Jim was offended. And desperate to keep Blair from returning to where this conversation started. 

"Ok, ok, let me rephrase that: refuse to acknowledge what is in front of you that is about you and your feelings. Deny that, Mr. Feelings, Who Me?" 

" I do not need to deny anything. There is nothing to deny." Jim crossed his arms over his chest and glared. 

"Ha, ha, ha. So, how come you kept coming back and reading my journal. Oh and I know you did. I could tell." Blair moved forward into Jim' personal space, forcing him back until Jim was pinned up against the support post. The shorter man's voice got deeper. "Tell me why you kept reading, hmmm?!!!" 

Jim was mesmerized by those eyes, that voice. "I..." 

"Yes?" 

"I...I wanted to be ..." Jim mumbled the remaining words. 

"I didn't quite get that." 

" I wanted to be in those fantasies. With you." 

A soft sound, not a sigh but a breath of air that Jim felt on his face, expressing contentment. "Ah, at last." 

"At last?" 

"I wrote those for you, for us. Oh, not the first one but when I realized you had found the journal and were reading it...well, a perfect opportunity not to be missed. A chance to let you know how I felt and to ...encourage you to tell me if...that you felt the same." 

Jim smiled. 

Then Blair twacked him on the chest, hard, with the back of his hand. "But you, you great big goober, you thought I was writing about someone else! Geeze." 

Jim did not lose his smile; it just got broader. "You wrote about us...to get me to..." He stepped forward and put his hands on Blair's shoulders. "...to get me to do this." A slide of hands up into Blair's hair and a mouth lowered to brush gently over full lips. 

Blair sank into the kiss, into Jim's body. His mouth opened and his tongue reached out to touch Jim's lips. His arms came up and clasped tightly around Jim's neck. Jim dropped his own hands to wrap that sturdy body closer. There was only the taste and the heat and the silky moist cavity of mouths. Nothing else mattered. 

Until they parted to inhale, shaky breaths, eyes locked on eyes, bodies throbbing against each. 

"So, that?" Jim murmured. 

Blair's voice squeaked, "I..." a cough and a steadier tone, "I am not certain. Could we try that again. Just to gather some more data." 

"Data." Jim started angling them into the living room part of the loft. "You ever going to let the scientist part of you go?" 

As they reached the sofa and bumped into the front, Blair shook his head. With a firm shove, he dropped Jim onto the cushions and reached out to balance onehanded on the arm of the sofa. Almost a growl, "never", he leaned over his partner. 

"Good," and Jim yanked him down into his lap. Blair burst out giggling as Jim manhandled him around, flipping him to lay on the length of the sofa, his legs either side of Jim. All laughter stopped when Jim's hand slipped under Blair's t-shirt and began caressing his stomach in slow, expanding circles. 

When his fingers found a nipple and tweaked it, Jim was delighted with the results. Blair's back arched, and he groaned. Jim wanted to hear that sound again. It sent shivers through him and ended in an intense awareness of his engorging cock. The results of the second tweak were better than the first, the groan was louder and the restless movement in Blair stronger. 

His eyes found Blair's mouth and he could not stop himself pressing forward between those strong legs to take that full mouth in a suddenly blistering kiss. And just as suddenly, they both started scrabbling at the other's clothing to reach bare skin. A t-shirt up and over Blair's head to be tossed behind the sofa. A shirt, buttons yanked open shoved back over Jim's shoulders. Frantic,   
Jim extended each arm to whip the shirt away. Pants were pushed down to catch at knees but it did not matter. Feet, shoving off shoes, got the pants out of the way. 

Blair locked his ankles around Jim's back and thrust up into Jim's downward drive. Slick mouths ranged over face and throat tasting, feeling. Heat and pounding hearts and grunts of effort. Thrust met thrust until they both cried out. They collapsed together, sweaty and barely able to catch breath. 

As they lay, sated and dozy, Jim heard Blair mumble into his lover's chest, softly but certain, 'mine, mine, mine'. He smiled and echoed the thought, though for the life of him, he did not have the energy at that moment to speak. All he could do was tighten his arms around that wonderful body. He drifted into a half sleep. 

>~~*~~<

The weight of Blair's body across his chest was solid, reminding him again of the muscle and bone strength of his lover. His lover. Jim liked the sound of that. He liked the feeling of Blair close too, the heat of him and the scent, especially the post-sex scent. Male musk and sweat and body wash from the quick clean-up they did after their orgasms. 

In the way a mind will work, Jim suddenly remembered that Blair had had the scent of another man on him a couple of times in the last weeks. And that Blair had not answered Jim's question about who he was, that man who got his scent on Blair. Without Jim's knowledge. He frowned. Why had Blair not explained? He wriggled a bit, the discomfort of unresolved issues nagging at him. 

A voice mumbled into Jim's chest. "Stop moving. Sleeping." 

"If you were sleeping, Sandburg, you would not be speaking." 

"Talking in my sleep." 

"Yah? Then all this was a dream?" 

Blair's head came up and he glared at Jim. "No way, you are not passing this off as a dream! I got you, you know it, I know it!" 

Jim grinned. "Ok, cool your jets there, Rocketman." 

Blair harumpted and settled down on Jim's chest again. 

"But..." 

A curly head came back up. 

"...who was he...that guy...you know...got his scent all over you. I just need to..." 

"Oh, him." Blair subsided onto Jim. 

"Yah, him. Who?" 

"Michaelson." 

"Michaelson? The judo instructor at the Academy?" 

"Yup." 

"Why would Michaelson got his scent all over you?" 

The head popped up again. Blair's turn to grin. "Jealous?" 

About to say no, Jim realized he had the chance to keep this relationship on the right track. "Not jealous, just...you know....another man with my..." 

Blair's grin softened. "He agreed to help me sharpen my unarmed combat skills, as a return favour...for some advice on focusing his daughter on a university program at Ranier." 

"Right, I remember something about her almost dropping out of high school. So you helped him..." 

"Yah, just a few suggestions on how to approach the idea of university with her. So..." 

"Well, he did a good job, Chief. The way you took down that perp last week, classic. But why didn't you mention the extra training? I could have..." 

"Exactly!" 

"What?" 

"You know what they say, never learn to drive ...or whatever...from your dad or your spouse." Blair raised his eyebrows. "Or your lover." 

Jim frowned. "But we weren't ..." 

"But it was only a matter of time and I did not want to screw things up by adding an opportunity for irritation." 

"Me teaching you equals irritation." Jim's voice was very quiet. 

"No, love, not for me. But you know how much my questions drive you crazy. I could not do that to you." Blair laughed. "Michaelson told me he did not understand how you could stand me as your partner." 

Jim grinned. "I ask myself that question sometimes too. But then I look into your eyes, I listen to the way you speak to victims, I hear the ideas that you and no one else comes up with, I recognize the way you take care of me, even when I don't want you to. Then I know." 

Blair was pink with pleasure at Jim's comments and kissed his new lover gently on the mouth before snuggling back into his arms again. But Jim had another question. 

"So, Blair," asked Jim, carding his fingers through the crisp curls on his lover's head, "what are the ten sexiest words?" 

Blair kissed the side of Jim's neck and stood up. "I love you, you big goober, now come to bed." He wiggled his fingers at Jim, enticing him toward the loft steps. 

Jim laughed and laughed all the way up the stairs. 

Finis. 

* * *

End Ten Sexiest Words by Marion2: marion2@cyberus.ca  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


End file.
